Intervention
by brkfstattiffys
Summary: Aware that Margaret's grief extends beyond the recent death of her parents, Mr. Bell feels compelled to intervene on her behalf. He attempts to force the two lover's together before they are ready to confess their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first FanFic. In fact, I've hardly read any fanfiction other than North and South so feel free to correct me if I'm overstepping any unspoken rules of the fanfic community. Along those lines, please read and review, and let me know what you mean if you use abbreviations or fanfic jargon because I'm new at this.

This is based mostly on the BBC series, and to a lesser extent on the book. It picks up with Mr. Bell and Margaret on the bench at Helstone and pretty much everything changes from there.

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**Ch.1- The Last Request**

Mr. Bell scrutinized Margaret carefully as she explained the situation with Frederick and Mr. Thornton at Outwood station.

"I just, I hate to think that Mr. Thornton thinks badly of me" Margaret finished, looking at Mr. Bell with pleading eyes and a pouting lip.

"Are you sure that's all?" he replied.

The longing look on Margaret's face as she turned away from him was all the answer he needed. Mr. Bell knew there had been something between them. He was not quite sure what had happened to separate them. All he knew was that Margaret's happiness depended somehow on his tenant in Milton. He also suspected that Mr. Thornton's recent distressed manner had to do with more than his failing mill.

With Margaret's unspoken confirmation Mr. Bell decided to go on with his plan. Both parties in this matter seemed determined to hide away their emotions, to prevent any opportunity that they might reunite. Intervention was needed.

Mr. Bell let out a deep sigh. With more time these matters could be handled properly, with delicacy and gentle propriety. But time was running short.

"I thought it was going to be such a lovely day," Margaret whispered, more to the trees than the companion at her side.

"Well never mind, let us think of other things," exclaimed Mr. Bell as he conjured up a false cheer, as much for his own sake as for Margaret's.

He went on to explain to Margaret that he wished to sign over the bulk of his monies and properties to her immediately.

Margaret shook her head in bewildered disbelief, "Oh no, I can't. I will not."

"Yes you will," replied Mr. Bell with assurance in his voice. It would not do to give into her strong will now. Not when he had so much else to propose.

"You see, my trip to London was not just to see you my dear. I saw my doctor as well."

Margaret's eyes clouded over as the realization hit her. She could hardly believe her ears. The first day of almost happiness since her father's death and she was faced with the reality that she would soon lose his dearest friend. She stared blankly ahead remembering all she had lost since she was last in Helstone.

She imagined Bessie Higgins, freed from that aching cough and those tired eyes, enjoying the long rest she had always spoken fondly of. She thought of her mother, young again and dressed in finery, with no troublesome convulsions, no red eyes or hidden pains. Her father was by her side at last. He had never been quite right in this world without her.

Margaret had always been comforted by the thought of those who had left her enjoying a heaven full of everything this world had not given them. But Mr. Bell was different. He had no external complaint, no fond memories of a life long gone, no lonely aching heart. He seemed healthy and happy, content in this world. Despite the wickedness of the thought Margaret found herself asking God what he could offer this man that justified taking him from her side.

Mr. Bell interrupted her thoughts. "Now my dear. Don't lose yourself in despair. I've had a long and wonderful life and you must think of me living the rest of it beneath the Argentine skies, being warmed by the sun. Not many a man can plan his exit from this world in such a leisurely way."

Margaret sniffled and returned to reality, having received a small comfort from his words.

"There is more my dear." Mr. Bell leapt into his next announcement swiftly hoping not to be derailed of his nerve by any pause in the explanation. "When your father died I had some idea of…taking care of you."

"You have, I mean, you did. You are" Margaret insisted, but Mr. Bell was looking for more than comforting words.

"No, you don't quite understand. I hope to leave you with more than money and property when I depart from this world. That is to say, I'm not quite sure I could face your father with the news that you were left with no more company than can be found in Harley Street."

Margaret opened her mouth to protest but Mr. Bell held out a hand to silence her as he continued.

"Now I know your Aunt Shaw and cousin Edith have been very kind to you, and that you love them dearly, but I am no fool. Don't try to tell me that you haven't felt very much alone for you entire stay there. True companionship requires more than dinner parties and London society can offer, especially for a woman of your sensibilities." Mr. Bell smirked at the look of shock on her face. The realization that he had described her feelings so perfectly gave him all the confidence necessary to complete his final statement and stand by it.

"No Margaret, I can not rest easy in South America with the knowledge that I kept my promise to your dear Papa if I leave you with nothing but money to fill a lonely heart. To be assured that you are properly cared for I must insist that you find companionship with someone who is your equal. Yes, as my days are growing short I must insist that you are engaged by the week's end. I can not leave this world in peace until that is settled."

Mr. Bell smiled at his triumph and braced himself for her indignant replies, but to his surprise the forthright Margaret simply melted. Months of unshed tears poured down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands and whimpered her reply, "But Mr. Bell…no one loves me."

Recognizing her outpouring of emotion as uncharacteristic Mr. Bell was almost embarrassed to share this intimate moment with her. With tact he pretended not to notice the meaning less than artfully hidden by her words. He knew exactly to whom she was referring when she said "no one," but instead of addressing the truth of her confession Mr. Bell put his arm around her shoulder and returned to his falsely cheery tone.

"Oh Margaret, you underestimate yourself. As if your beauty and charm could not win you a thousand husbands overnight, the dowry alone could buy you any man you like. Simply name the lucky gentleman and we will take the train at once."

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A/N- So I know Mr. Bell as godfather can't really force a grown woman to get married but I'll explain in the next chapter why she decides to consider his request.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- So thanks for reviewing my story! It really encouraged me to right more, as this is my first fanfiction. I did take the advice of a quick update and a slightly longer chapter. Please read and review. Don't be afraid to offer some criticism just because I'm a newbie. I'm not overly sensitive, honest.

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Ch.2- A Reputation

Edith could have kissed Mr. Bell when she heard the news. Margaret could have killed him for telling her. All week had been an unbearable parade of London's most eligible bachelors. How Edith had managed to fit four extravagant dinner parties and six social calls into the last five days Margaret would never understand. Edith still favored her brother-in-law to become Margaret's betrothed of course, but she was not about to put all her eggs in one basket. Besides, the introduction of fresh competition seemed to add a renewed vigor to their courtship. Or so she thought.

At the moment they were in the Harley Street drawing room on their seventh social call of the week. These social calls with aging spinsters seemed to fall into one of two formats. Either they came to Harley Street and blabbered on about their bright and promising sons who had as of yet failed to form a suitable attachment, or Edith and Margaret set off to visit the women in their homes and just as they were laying on a thousand praises for the male candidates the praised one would show up unexpectedly to retrieve something from the house or 'drop by' during an unrehearsed walk through the neighborhood.

Today was the former scenario and Lady Hawkins was working diligently to sell her son to the famous heiress while Margaret tried in vain to pay the minimal amount of attention required so as not to offend their guest. Luckily Edith interjected with an invitation to the Lady and her son for the fifth extravagant dinner party to be held that week at Harley Street. This was always Margaret's cue that she was no longer needed in the conversation. After all, Lady Hawkins had not come to survey the finer qualities of the women she sought for her son's fiancée. She was much more interested in the size of Mr. Bell's purse strings, which were comprehensively advertised throughout the county, and that her son might simply have an invitation to make acquaintance with this promising fortune.

Honestly Margaret had always thought that women would act shamelessly in pursuit of husbands for their daughters, but now that she was confronted with every desperate mother in all of London she could see that the shamelessness could just as easily be brought to the surface in the face of handsome dowry.

Margaret turned her attention to the window and began to drift into her private world of deep regret and longing. As she did this Lady Hawkins turned to Edith with the usual offended and bewildered expression, and Edith made the usual whispered apology about the recent loss of both parents. The woman nodded in understanding and began to make her excuses to leave when a servant came in to announce Mr. Bell and Margaret was suddenly awakened from her dreary pastime.

Margaret turned away from the window and smiled brightly at Mr. Bell as he entered the room. "What new acquaintance have you introduced my Margaret too?" Mr. Bell inquired of Edith as he looked to Lady Hawkins.

"Oh, Mr. Bell, this is Lady Hawkins. She and her son live not five miles from here. I was just inviting them to our little dinner party this evening" Edith said cheerily as she introduced the pair. Mr. Bell smiled wickedly at Margaret, quite amused at Edith's ferocity in the quest to torture his goddaughter with a never ending array of single men.

"Nice to make your acquaintance Lady Hawkins," Mr. Bell said with all the genuine airs of a true gentleman. Then he turned his attention to Edith. "I regret to inform you that I won't be able to dine with your party this evening. I have a business engagement that will take me away from all your lovely company for a couple of days," he explained cordially, "but I'm sure you will have the room filled with much younger men than I," he added with another of his wicked grins. Edith blushed at being so exposed in front of their new acquaintance but she did not deny the accusation and added only that he would be sorely missed.

With the niceties out of the way Mr. Bell crossed the room and asked if Margaret would join him on what was becoming a routine morning stroll. She hid the extreme relief at being thus saved from the torture of the social call, and excused herself readily to join Mr. Bell.

They set off down the road at a leisurely pace as Margaret inquired after Mr. Bell's health and he inquired after Frederick's case. After the oft repeated announcements that he had no painful troubles and Henry was working hard to exonerate Frederick Mr. Bell set into his usual bit of teasing.

"So what new accomplishments does Mr. Hawkins possess? Is he successful in business? Well-educated in the classics? A talented soldier? An amicable gentleman?"

"Oh Mr. Bell you know I can hardly keep up with all these ridiculous men Edith has foisted in front of me. Won't you please call off this charade? I'm begging you. She has taken your last request as her personal mission and will not rest until I have accepted the advances of some intolerable toad."

"Oh, come now Margaret, I've told you before I'm quite serious about this matter. Of course I will not force you to marry someone you find intolerable, but if I am unable to see you matched with someone who can provide you with the proper companionship I will die with regret. Please dear, do try to give them a chance."

Margaret sighed under the guilt of his entreaty. She did want to give him some peace but believed that the incessant attempt to find her a husband was misplaced to say the least.

"Mr. Bell I have told you," Margaret pleaded, "that there is not a man in all of London who could give me the companionship which you describe."

If only she knew how well he understood the meaning of that statement, she might not repeat it so freely.

"My dear please" Mr. Bell countered, anxious as he always was to pry some confession from her, "you know I do not wish to persecute you with Edith's barrage of unpleasant men, but I am hardly qualified to gauge the eligibility of suitors. Only name the lucky gentleman who could win over your affections and I will send for him at once. You know I would circle the globe to see you properly matched. There is no need to confine your search to London men."

At this part of what had become a routine exchange between the pair Margaret always fell silent. Mr. Bell would give her a few moments to compose her thoughts, hoping that she would finally give way and tell him the cause of her true heartache. She never did.

A sillier girl may have entertained the idea of using the opportunity to call after the man that haunted her thoughts. She might have given way to Mr. Bell's offer and gushed the details of the romance that might have been, hoping against all hope that the object of her affection would receive the letter with joy, and rush to her side eager to forgive all her past misjudgments. Margaret was many things, but a silly girl was certainly not one of them. She kept the silence as she always did until Mr. Bell turned the conversation to something shallow and light.

"Far too many gardens in London, and too few flowers. Don't you think my dear?"

"Indeed Mr. Bell. And far too many people with far too little purpose these days."

Margaret often made such comments; remembering fondly the small things she loved about Milton. The things she had taken for granted in her haste to overemphasize the misfortunes of the place. Such comments were lost on most of her company at Harley Street, but Mr. Bell understood them more than she knew. She would not overtly admit that the key to her happiness lay in Milton, but Mr. Bell could hear it well enough. He sighed and let the moment pass as he contemplated whether the other half of this untold secret might be more willing to confess.

Mr. Bell took his leave of Margaret that afternoon and she reluctantly retired to her bedroom where Dixon awaited her, anxious to prepare for yet another extravagant dinner party. Dixon was perhaps the only one who rivaled Edith in her amusement at Miss Margaret's predicament. It had been many a long year since she had waited on a mistress who received all the attention deserved of her gentle breeding. Dixon would chatter away fondly about the countless parties and suitors that surrounded the life of the young Maria. Margaret allowed her this familiarity. All the years of faithful service to her family had allowed her a certain privilege to speak of her late mistress as the dear friend she truly was.

Dixon busied herself with the ironing of another of Margaret's fine gowns before lunch. When Margaret came up from afternoon tea Dixon applied herself to the task of twirling ribbons through her soft curls.

"If only my mistress were alive to see you Miss Margaret. The talk of London society. Sought after by dozens of proper, _decent_ gentleman."

Occasionally Margaret would stiffen at such remarks, recognizing them for the thinly veiled slights at Milton society that they were. Today she hardly noticed the insult, so deeply was she entranced by her memories of the society Dixon despised.

Dixon's remark that Margaret was "the talk of London society" was, if anything, an understatement. Edith's shameless inquiries into every single man of London combined with Mr. Bell's passing remarks to every business colleague and fellow scholar he could possibly meet had ensured that news of the sizeable dowry and indecent haste traveled throughout the entire county. Mr. Bell's efforts paid off when the shocking gossip about Miss Hale became the tittle-tattle of Milton. A former Milton resident, about to inherent a large fortune, and seeking to marry with what could only be described as indecent haste could hardly fail to captivate the minds of every gossip in town.

Mr. Thornton had heard of it of course, but he forbade any lengthy discussion of Miss Hale in his presence. He did not know the details and chose not to wonder at the idle gossip of strangers. Hearing her name whispered in the streets of Milton did send an eerie chill up his spine, but it was quite impossible that she should enter his thoughts any more than she already had, day and night, since she left Milton without looking back.

Mr. Thornton often found himself in those days, intruding on the whispered conversations of mill workers. He assumed they were all concerned as to their fate, faced with the impending failure of Marlborough Mills. His was not the only mill to close in recent months. As work grew scarcer, men in need of it only became more plentiful. Little did Thornton know that the real object of their conversation rested on his own fate. Many a man who had seen their fateful embrace at the riot wondered why the master spent his days pouring over paperwork when his problems would be better solved by some time courting a certain heiress in London.

That evening the heiress descended the stairs at Harley Street, searching for his face with as much futile desperation as he sought to banish hers from his mind. Truth be told, she would have rebelled against Edith's matchmaking dinner's a long while ago if not for the small, almost imperceptible, hope that a certain eligible bachelor of Milton might be one day included in them. Not as a candidate from Edith's list to be sure, but as a business associate of Mr. Bell's or an acquaintance of her friend Henry Lennox. Her hopes were dashed once again as he was nowhere to be found, and she repeated to herself again the cold words that kept her hope in line.

"_I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over."_

He had forgotten her. She should concentrate on following his example.

Margaret sighed as she surveyed the room one more time. It would not do to excuse herself from the dinner party when half the guests could see her there on the stairs. She mustered her courage and headed downstairs for another tedious evening of entertaining unattached men.

Henry came to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. He was the only company she could tolerate at these events. It certainly was not lost on any of the conspirators at Harley Street that the more men who sought her attentions, the more she clung to the companionship of Henry Lennox. They would escape the crowded dinner parties for a private stroll whenever Mr. Bell was unavailable to escort her. She would speak over any number of eligible bachelors to respond to one of Henry's passing comments.

Perhaps it was naïve, but Margaret took comfort in reuniting this old friendship. She truly thought that with her early refusal at Helstone she had buried any possibility of romance between them. If Margaret had thought for a moment that a gentleman might endeavor to propose a second time to a woman that had refused him, Henry Lennox would not have been the gentleman foremost in her mind.

Henry was pleasant company, as he had always been, and it was a relief to converse with someone who wasn't on Edith's list of possibilities. From time to time Henry would let slip some passing comment about Milton. Business occasionally took him to the manufacturing town, and it was the only subject about which Margaret truly wanted to hear. He had noticed how her face lit up whenever he talked of it, but he wrongly attributed this fascination to a misplaced love for the town where her parents had spent their last days. His comments about Milton were usually confined to shallow observations as to the weather, or prejudiced slights at the inhabitants, but Margaret remained grateful for any moment when the topic of conversation neared the subject of her every thought.

It is fair to say that Margaret was completely oblivious to Edith's stifled giggles every time she approached her brother in law, and she never gave a passing thought to the idea that Henry harbored any regard for her beyond a cordial friendship. It was for this reason that she was surprised at the eerily familiar feeling of their walk through the garden that evening.

"Well Miss Margaret, it seems you have again failed to be tempted by any of Edith's most eligible candidates for your affection."

Margaret was a little taken aback by his forward manner but she supposed for a man privy to some of her most guarded secrets as to Fred's whereabouts it was silly to hide from him the truths that all the world could see.

"You know that not a single gentleman on Edith's list of hopefuls could tempt me into a loveless marriage, regardless of how much comfort it might give my dear Mr. Bell in his last days."

Henry was emboldened by her honest statement. He took a couple of long strides ahead of her and turned to face her, blocking her path forward through the garden. The intensity of his manner made her nervous.

"So the man that could tempt you has been on _your_ list long before your cousin's showering of dinner parties?"

Margaret blushed furiously and lowered her head in answer. Could he know the true source of her love for Milton? His next words served to snap her out of this demure stance with a start.

"Oh Margaret, I knew when I took on Frederick's case that it would bring us closer together, but I could not have foreseen how Mr. Bell's situation would awaken you to the realization that I am the only suitable match for you."

Margaret looked up suddenly in horror. "Excuse me Mr. Lennox. You are too forward." His Christian name seemed too familiar now.

She panicked as she took in the familiarity of the situation. The walk in the garden. The unwanted advance. But this time instead of startled embarrassment she felt a fury rising up within her. This was more than a simple misinterpretation of her feelings. She seethed at the realization that what she had interpreted as honest aid in her brother's case had been a calculating attempt to win her affection.

Henry was oblivious to her feelings as he often was. He saw only what he wished to see as he often did. He interpreted her rising passion as permission to speak more freely.

"My dear Margaret surely you must know that I took Frederick's case only as a statement of my feelings for you. Even though I knew it was a lost cause, I worked tirelessly to demonstrate for you that my regard had not faded despite your misguided refusal at Helstone."

Tears welled up in Margaret's eyes at this confirmation. She had invented this kind friend, willing to help her through a trying time. The only misguided decision she had made about Henry Lennox was her unwarranted faith in him. As usual Henry misinterpreted the gesture.

"Oh tsk tsk my dear. No need to apologize. I have already forgiven you for your little mistake."

He reached out to her, placing his hand on her arm. To his surprise she jerked away from him and took two heavy steps backwards with a look of disgust clouding her countenance. She was unable to express how deeply he had wounded her. Her breathing grew heavy as she fought the urge to scream.

"Come now Margaret, surely you do not fault me for saying that Frederick's case is a lost cause. It's as plain as day my dear. But you are right. I shouldn't have said it so casually. I only meant to express how I still care for you. I love you Margaret."

Margaret responded with the most piercing words she could muster. She hoped to hurt him as deeply as she had long regretted hurting another.

"Well I do not love you, and never have" Margaret exclaimed with even more bitterness that she had that day in Crampton.

To her surprise Mr. Lennox did not respond with the pained look or regretful surrender that she had often replayed in her mind's eye. Instead he strode forward with quick purposeful steps and grabbed her wrist, jerking her towards him. Margaret yelped and tried to pull away but only fell to her knees in the effort to be free of his tightening grip.

"Do not try my patience Margaret. You have teased me long enough with your unladylike advances. I thought Mr. Bell's fortune would be payment enough for how you have mistreated me but if you refuse to concede it I will simply have to punish you myself."

His eyes grew dark as he towered over her with the seriousness of the threat evident in his entire being.

Despite her fear, Margaret fought back with more biting words, "I only sought your friendship Mr. Lennox and look how you have punished me for that." She continued to struggle in vain against his tightening grasp on her wrist. Her green silk gown was covered in dirt and the distress in her face made her a pitiful sight. As Margaret struggled Mr. Lennox became suddenly aware of the sound of footsteps in the garden. He was struck with an idea.

Without hesitation he pulled Margaret to her feet and forced his mouth to hers with a violent intensity. The servants rounding the corner could only describe the scene as a passionate lover's embrace. As quickly as it began he shoved her away from him in an act of pretend indignation and began to shout.

"I am a gentleman Miss. I am no northern tradesman that you can seduce with your forward ways."

The servants gasped in embarrassment and turned away, leaving the garden before they could be identified by either party. Henry smirked at Margaret triumphantly as her eyes widened with the realization of what he had just done.

If the news of a rich heiress seeking a husband traveled fast, the news of Margaret's indecency traveled much faster. A new rumor of a garden tryst rose up to join old ones of the gentleman at Outwood Station and the embrace at Marlborough Mills. Everyone who had giggled over the news of Margaret's fortune whispered indecent remarks about the real reason for the high dowry and incredible haste.

Edith and Aunt Shaw offered some sympathy to Margaret in light of Henry's indecent behavior, but they were unwilling to believe he was entirely at fault. They honored her wish to be free of his company but at every opportunity attempted to reason with her.

"Please understand," Edith said one morning "he must have thought you were welcoming him to the kiss in the garden. You flirted with him so in this past week. Besides he has apologized for his jealous exclamation. Many a righteous man has been overcome by passion. It's just that he loves you so dearly Margaret."

"Edith you can not understand. Don't you believe what I have told you."

"Margaret I can't believe that you would lie about such grave matters, only that you must have misinterpreted his behavior. Even if he was somewhat out of line surely you know the gossip that you are currently subject to. You should accept his proposal and lay it to rest with a long engagement."

Margaret was hurt by their lack of understanding. She spent two days in her room and would see no one but Dixon who was wise enough to keep her mouth shut on the matter. The 'couple of days' until Mr. Bell's returned stretched on a like an eternity. Finally on Sunday Dixon announced his arrival while the rest of the family was away at church.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch.3- Indecent Proposal**

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Margaret rushed down the stairs into the dining room where Mr. Bell awaited her. "It's not true," Margaret blurted out, "You must believe me."

She needed to know immediately that Mr. Bell would be her ally in this, perhaps her only ally.

"My dear Margaret if you are worried that I believe any of the ridiculous rumors about your misconduct do not fret. But what did happen? Was this that scoundrel Henry's doing?"

"Oh yes Mr. Bell. You would not believe the way he spoke to me. And then Edith and Aunt Shaw...well they certainly do not believe it. I'm not sure they know what to believe about the matter."

She was becoming hysterical as she began to explain. "Calm down Margaret. I am here now. I know you could not utter a false word unless your family's life depended on it. We will get this all sorted. Please sit down. We'll have some breakfast and be off before the family returns from church."

Margaret only nodded in agreement. She was thankful that Mr. Bell understood her need to escape the company at Harley Street. Although she loved her Aunt Shaw and Edith, it was too much knowing that her closest family suspected her of misconduct. To be fair they could not do otherwise. To believe either story would be to betray a family member. Their rationalization that everything was simply a misunderstanding suited them well, but it left Margaret alone and abandoned.

Dixon brought in some tea and bread. It was a light breakfast in food, but heavy in conversation. While Mr. Bell and Margaret talked Dixon packed her things, well aware that Mr. Bell's arrival signaled a move. She wondered where they would be going. Margaret explained what had passed between herself and Mr. Lennox while Mr. Bell contemplated a solution.

"It seems that my meddlesome foolishness has put you in a terrible position, but here we are none the less. The natural course of action in a situation of this nature is that you should marry one of the gentlemen connected to the rumors. Now Frederick is clearly not an appropriate choice, and from what you have just told me Mr. Lennox is completely out of the question. I would rather see you publicly shamed than married to that vile man."

Margaret looked alarmed at the idea of being forever branded a harlot, but nodded in agreement none the less. The idea of being forever Henry's wife was much more horrifying. Mr. Bell sighed and looked at Margaret, searching for some hint of emotion in her blank stare. This would be the difficult part.

"We must go to Milton," he finally said.

"Mr. Thornton..." Margaret whispered as she looked down in shame. Of course. It was a fitting punishment for her rash judgment of him that she should now have to beg for salvation from the man she had rejected.

Mr. Bell looked at her with a sad expression on his face. "Margaret I hate that you are in this situation but Mr. Thornton is a gentleman who respected your father and will understand the situation. If you would prefer I could send you to Spain to live with Frederick but that would mean abandoning the world you know, and everyone you left behind would be certain that the rumors against your virtue are true."

Margaret thought it over in her mind. She could live with the fact that Edith and Aunt Shaw might think badly of her, but it would be torture to know that is where Mr. Thornton's opinion of her rested. Even if he would not have her, she had to explain her actions. She was determined that if she was to go to Spain at least he would know why.

"Mr. Bell if you think that is the best course of action, let us go to Milton."

As Margaret thought about it she also realized that it would be best not to compromise Frederick's position by going to Spain. If anyone had suspected that he was here in England they might be watching her, waiting to be led right to him. She recounted her father's eerie words on the matter.

_"The navy spares no expense. They send out ships specifically to hunt the seas for the guilty men. It's as fresh and vivid a crime as if it happened yesterday."_

A single tear slid down Margaret's cheek and Mr. Bell, wishing to avoid another scene like the one at Helstone, attempted to console her on what he thought was the source of her sadness.

"Margaret please do not cry. Mr. Thornton is a kind man underneath his hard exterior. I'm sure he will treat you well in marriage. I would not suggest this course otherwise." He then began to berate himself, saying out loud the thoughts that had been in his head for days. "Oh, I should never have interfered. If I had only left for South America weeks ago I could have left you in peace here at Harley Street. It is my insistence that you marry which has caused this whole thing."

"No, Mr. Bell," Margaret replied, "It is unfortunate to find out in this manner but you were right. My dear friends here at Harley Street are hardly enough to secure my happiness. I'm afraid that despite how much they love me, they can never really understand me. I'm so much changed since I lived in Milton and I miss..." she paused, and Mr. Bell hung on the unsaid words, hoping that his blunder might yet lead her in the right direction. "I miss my friends in Milton, and the busyness of the people there, and the charge I had over my own life from day to day."

Mr. Bell was disappointed yet again at her failure to mention Mr. Thornton by name, but they were going to Milton and perhaps that was enough.

Margaret looked away and took in a deep breath collecting her thoughts.

"What is it Margaret?" asked Mr. Bell, still searching her thoughts, trying to decipher if he was doing the right thing.

"It's just..." Margaret started, but then paused.

"It's just what my dear?"

"Well, we must be prepared...It's just that...Mr. Thornton will not have me." Margaret finally blurted out the certainty that lay deep in her heart. She wanted to go to Milton, to chance the possibility that he might forgive her, but she was certain the best she could hope for was a chance to confide in him the real reason for her lie about Outwood Station, and to convince him that when she left the country it was not for the reason everyone would insinuate.

_"I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over."_

"Margaret I think you are mistaken in that point. Anyway, there are circumstances in this matter that you are not aware of..." he trailed off, suddenly unsure that he should reveal the dire nature of Mr. Thornton's financial situation. Surely it would be no consolation to Margaret, who clearly harbored a deep secret love for the man, that he might marry her out of necessity.

She took no notice of his blunder, as she continued repeating Mr. Thornton's words to herself over and over again. Finally Dixon came to the dining room to inform them that she had packed Margaret's trunk.

Mr. Bell and Margaret arrived at the train station within the hour. Dixon would stay behind to make excuses to the family, and send the rest of Margaret's things when her permanent address was arranged.

Mr. Bell and Margaret spent the train ride in silence. He sat wondering where this tangled web would lead them. She passed the time in a day dream. It was not usual for Margaret to dwell on what was not. She more often thought on what had been. On her way to Milton though, she needed a release.

Margaret often remembered that day in Crampton when he had confessed his love for her in anger and stormed off in a fiery passion. What she would not give to go back to that day and recognize Mr. Thornton's offer for what it was, a chance at true happiness. If in heaven Bessie was freed from her cough Margaret would find a place there where she was freed from her mistake.

_She entered the room in Crampton and saw Mr. Thornton standing there in his pressed jacket and perfectly tied cravat. He turned around suddenly at the sound of the door and looked at her, all of the fear of what he was about to ask evident in his face. He crossed the room with purpose and shut the door behind her, standing so near to her that she could feel his breath on her neck. He walked away, giving her a chance to remember to breath after being so taken in by his close proximity. He, in turn, steadied himself by grabbing a chair and making some inconsequential comment about the color of fruit. Finally he turned to her, ready to begin what he had come for._

"_Miss Hale I'm afraid I was very ungrateful yesterday," Mr. Thornton began._

"_You have nothing to be grateful for," Margaret replied thinking to herself that saving him from the mob was truly a selfish act. She simply could not bear the thought of a world without him._

"_I think that I do," he replied. His voice was thick with emotion._

"_Well I did only the least that anyone would have," she answered, looking innocently at him._

"_That can't be true." He looked at her, hurt by the thought that her actions were out of no special concern for him._

"_I ought rather to apologize to you for saying thoughtless words which sent you down into the danger." This time she left out the biting lie, that she would have done the same for any man. She avoided the bitter exchange and simply looked up at him with inviting eyes._

"_Miss Hale I didn't just come here to thank you. I came, because…I've never found myself in this position before…it's difficult to find the words…Miss Hale my feelings for you are very strong…"_

_This time instead of an expression of growing horror on her face, she looked at him with eager eyes. He paused for a while, dwelling in his own uncertainty._

"_Please…continue," she encouraged._

"_Miss Hale, I choose to believe that I owe my very life to you because it adds a value to that life to think…to think that I owe it to one whom I love, as I do not believe man ever loved a woman."_

_His voice as he spoke these words was lowered to such a tender intensity of passion that she shivered and trembled before him. He reached out for her hand and held it tight in his, drawing close to her as he waited for what was to come._

But before she could carry her day dream to its logical conclusion the train stopped in Milton. Margaret shook her head and awoke from the silly fantasy. In truth she could not have accepted him that day even had she known all that would pass between them. In reality she only wished that she had chosen gentler words. Perhaps words that would have filled him with hope instead of anger giving her something deep in his heart that she could appeal to today.

At the station Mr. Bell was astonished at Margaret's insistence on walking to Marlborough Mills, but walk they did. He was afraid she would find offense in the way people on the streets stared at her. They heard her name whispered more than once by the more audacious gossips in the crowd. Margaret was not fazed. In fact, Mr. Bell thought he could detect that familiar sense of defiance rising up in her.

In fact he was right. Margaret gained strength from that smoky Milton air. She recognized the sense of purpose in everyone bustling through the streets around her, and was strengthened by a sense of purpose in herself. She was no longer passing days lost in thought among London society. Today she had a task to drive her forward. Despite the rejection she was sure awaited her, there was a sense of peace in knowing that she was finally going to confess what she had long harbored in her heart.

More than one passerby remarked on the way Margaret Hale held her head high and marched forward with the same haughty pride she had when she first came to Milton. Some thought it was indecent that she should act so when the whole world knew of her fall from grace. Others were so convinced by her confident stride that they began to wonder if they were mistaken in believing the tittle-tattle about this virtuous lady's conduct.

On the way to the mill Margaret almost ran into a young woman leading 4 children by the hand out for a walk. Mary recognized her first.

"Miss Margaret! What brings you to Milton? Surely it is not the weather that calls you here."

Margaret smiled, and took in a deep breath of the dirty Milton air. In reality it was a strange comfort to her.

"I came with Mr. Bell on business." Margaret explained, not wishing to reveal to the extent of her purpose there.

"Oh, well of course. With Marlborough Mills closed I suppose there is a lot of bustle and exchanges to find someone new to start it up again."

"Excuse me?" Margaret looked from Mary to Mr. Bell, waiting for an explanation of what she had just heard.

"Well surely you knew Miss Margaret…" Mary began but Mr. Bell interrupted her.

"Margaret, when I left London on business I came here to Milton. Mr. Thornton was put in a difficult situation after the strike and I'm afraid he never really recovered from it. The mill has been closed for two days."

Margaret was stunned. She knew that Mr. Thornton was in a difficult situation but it had never occurred to her that circumstances were this dire.

"But Mr. Bell, surely…?" she looked to him searching for some solution to the news she had just heard. Everything she knew of Milton hung around that mill master, overlooking a factory of white cotton floating through the air.

"I'm afraid it would take a great sum, possibly more than 15,000 pounds, to see that mill up and running again." Mr. Bell answered.

Margaret looked at him knowingly. 18,000 pounds was the sum of her dowry, and that did not factor in the property she would inherit when she married.

Margaret looked at Mary who was struggling to keep some of the Bowker children in line.

"Mary I shall pay you and Nicholas a visit before I leave Milton. Mr. Bell and I must be on our way to the mill."

Mary responded with a girlish smile and whisked the children out of the way, filled with her own suspicions of what would become of the mill now that Miss Margaret was back in town.

They found Thornton in his office, despite the fact that the mill was eerily silent and empty. He was gathering the last of his personal effects and preparing to shut the doors for the last time when Margaret arrived as if a phantom from his dreams. Mr. Bell pretended not to notice the color draining from Thornton's face as he was thus confronted. The gentleman retired to his office, with Margaret as a silent accessory, walking beside Mr. Bell with no explanation as to her presence. For a few moments Mr. Thornton almost thought he was imagining her there, but the conversation quickly turned to her.

Mr. Bell followed Margaret's advice despite his better judgment. She had asked as they continued their walk to the mill to keep the meeting formal and business like. He had calmly laid out the situation, detailing the advantages and disadvantages of the arrangement. In explanation as to Margaret's behavior at Outwood Station and in the gardens in Harley Street he said only that the rumors were false.

"I can assure you Mr. Thornton that the reputation Margaret has acquired of late is completely undeserved. Still you must understand the difficulties that rumors of this nature can place on a lady, innocent as she may be from the accusations. My only option is to see that her dignity is restored through an honorable marriage."

Margaret sat in horrified silence, desperately attempting to look at anything but the expression of disgust on Mr. Thornton's face. It was not as if she had expected him to rush to her side and pull her into his arms confessing his undying love for her. Even when he had feelings for her Mr. Thornton was no romantic. Margaret had prepared herself for the cold indifference she had become accustomed to in the days following the incident at Outwood Station. She had even mentally rehearsed how she might react if he responded with a venomous rage and banished her from his presence. But this was different. He looked ill, repulsed by the idea of having her as his wife. She wanted to escape this embarrassment but could not find the words to gracefully leave the office. Instead she simply looked down to study the deep grooves of the wooden floorboards and listen intently to the soft hum of another mill in the distance.

"I know that tying yourself to Margaret under the present circumstances would mean you are not immune to similar gossip. Especially considering your financial situation people will make accusations as to your motives but it is my hope you will work to convince them otherwise."

Mr. Thornton _was_ overcome with disgust, but not at Margaret. He received every word from his landlord's mouth with increasing disdain. Thornton was not oblivious to the way Margaret shifted uncomfortably in her chair as this despicable man negotiated the terms of her sale.

"If you are patient in claiming her as your wife..." here Mr. Bell paused and looked meaningfully at Mr. Thornton who understood the implication instantly, "I believe both of you will be restored in your reputation with time. Of course you will instantly be restored to your position as mill master by her considerable fortune."

This was too much. The very suggestion that he might rush to take advantage of Margaret in that way drove him over the edge. He rose purposefully from his chair and towered over the desk with all of the authority of a man much beyond his current means.

"Mr. Bell I have too much respect for the late Mr. Hale to entrap his daughter in an unwanted marriage simply to solve my own financial distress. What's more I will not listen to anymore of this insulting proposal."

Mr. Thornton opened a drawer on the left side of his desk and pulled out a stack of papers. He held them out to Mr. Bell and continued.

"Here I believe you will find everything you need concerning my lease at Marlborough Mills. If you have anything further concerning these business matters you know where to find me."

When Mr. Bell did not take the paperwork Mr. Thornton simply laid it on the desktop. He stepped away from the desk and headed for the door but something stopped him as he walked by Margaret. She had panicked as the negotiation came abruptly to an end but despite herself she was not ready to give up hope.

"Wait" she said as she reached out to him. Her hand was on his arm but she did not look up to meet his inquisitive gaze. A strange rush of a thousand feelings washed over him, reminding him in an instant of everything she meant to him. He did not respond. He only stood there watching her, waiting for her next move.

"Mr. Bell," Margaret directed the question at her guardian but looked to Mr. Thornton for the answer. "May I have a moment to speak with Mr. Thornton?"

Mr. Thornton took in her pleading eyes with confusion and disbelief. He had earlier attributed her discomfort to Mr. Bell's insensitive remarks but now he wondered if there was something more.

"Margaret I hardly think that it is appropriate considering what people are saying..."

"Please" Margaret interrupted. Mr. Bell was at a loss. After Thornton's vehement rejection of the proposal he was hesitant to leave Margaret's side. Her insistence won out. It was clear she was not waiting for his approval so he turned his attention to Mr. Thornton who only nodded in response.

Mr. Bell left the room and walked down the stairs where he waited, praying that Thornton had some pity for the girl despite his stoic demeanor and hoping that he had not made a critical mistake by leaving her with him.

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A/N: Margaret's imaginary proposal scene was adapted from combining the scene from the BBC with words straight out of Gaskell's novel.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- Sorry to make you wait so long for this chapter. I have a busy life, but I've found that carving out some time for this can help clear my mind a bit. From now on I'll try to post an update every Sunday. I know where I want this story to go, but I'm not really sure how long it will take to get there.

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**Ch.4- Consideration**

Mr. Thornton could feel her hand like a hot iron burning through his sleeve, straight into the skin of his arm. A rush of warmth, hope and fear washed over him with turbulent force. With Mr. Bell's exit from the room Thornton willed himself to step away from her touch and claim a defensive position behind his desk. The stir that moment had created within him prevented him from sitting down. He began to pace the small office, but stopped suddenly realizing that the nervous habit might betray his emotion. He turned sharply toward Margaret but her eyes burned into him so deeply that he felt she must be able to sense his unspoken passion as if he had just yelled it at her like that day after the riot. He leaned over his desk and steadied himself by placing his palms on the hard wood surface. With one deep breath he collected his strength and looked up at her expectantly.

All of this was not lost on Margaret. She interpreted his fidgeting and pacing as an earnest desire to be relieved from her presence as soon as possible. He leaned over his desk menacingly, daring her to speak her mind, ready at any moment to crush her spirits like she was nothing more than another striking mill worker. A lesser woman might have shrunk under the pressure, invented some pitiful excuse for detaining him and then left in a flurry of scrambled nerves and wrinkled petticoats. But Margaret was no blushing London lady. She closed her eyes briefly and reminded herself of why she was there. She had known that Mr. Thornton would reject her, that she would be sent to Spain within a fortnight, but she could not leave things as they were. She had to explain her behavior. She would leave the country knowing at least that if Mr. Thornton retained his poor opinion of her it was not because she had carried her lies with her across the ocean.

Margaret thought she had the strength to tell him, but she could not bring herself to simply blurt it all out. She thought she might put him at ease with a bit of small talk. Had only she chosen to ask him about the Classics or the Milton weather she might have achieved the desired affect. Unfortunately Margaret chose a more sensitive issue. She could not have asked a worse question without mentioning his failed proposal or a preferred lover.

"I just heard from Mary that the mill has closed Mr. Thornton. What will your next venture be?"

In was an honest question, born out of her natural curiosity, but she immediately felt the mistake of it. Mr. Thornton heard the cheerful tone of her voice and mistook it for mocking. He responded in kind.

"You mean to tell me you were not aware that you were only brought you here to take advantage of a man in _reduced circumstances_." His lips tightened and his eyes grew black as he dwelt on the details of their conversation. He recalled the harsh words she had used in rejecting his proposal month ago.

"I...I mean...I didn't..." Margaret floundered. She was shocked to be so accused, uncertain of how to respond.

He had her on the defensive. Mr. Thornton felt suddenly powerful, in contrast to how her presence always made him feel in the past. He rallied all the hurt she had caused him deep into his chest and built a wall against her further influence.

"I supposed I should expect as much _because you are rich_," he continued, "that you _are only capable of thinking in terms of buying and selling_."

Margaret's face grew white. She recognized the words. What could she expect but that he would punish her for her misguided rejection? But she could not leave it here. She must say what she came to.

"Mr. Thornton I know how you must regard my behavior..."

"Do not imagine that I have any particular regard for you," he interrupted in a fit of rage that rivaled his commanding yells at the rioters so many months ago. He had told them he would never send home the Irish, as he told her now that he would never fall victim to her bewitching demeanor again.

It was a lie.

In one moment he saw the pain wash over her face. He stepped away from the desk and began to walk toward her. In another moment he might have fallen to his knees repenting of any sin that clouded the countenance of his goddess, but there was not another moment. As quickly as the flash of pain appeared it went away and left Mr. Thornton wondering if he had imagined it. The instant reminder of how intensely he did regard her humbled him. He returned to his desk and sat down, ready to hear what she had to say.

Margaret watched him with suspicion for a few seconds. She could not understand what had affected his sudden change of behavior. It was so unsettling that she almost wished he would return to his former hostility.

"Mr. Thornton if you believe that I rejoice in your unfortunate circumstances, or that I do not feel keenly the misfortune of this empty place then you don't know me at all," she said with a nervous tremor in her voice.

"Still" she continued, "You are right to be angry about my impudent proposal."

Mr. Thornton's throat tightened. _Her proposal. She had called it her own. Not her guardian's._ Margaret took no notice and continued her explanation.

"Mr. Thornton I never thought...that is I knew...I told Mr. Bell you would not have me," she began. "I have not come to Milton with the belief that some loving marriage awaited for me...that is...I knew you have no regard for me...in that way." She looked down at her hands and fumbled with her handkerchief, trying to find the words to explain herself. She swallowed back some of the emotion in her voice before continuing.

Thornton was captivated. He took in every word, every gesture with a studied gaze.

"I just...I admit...I may have thought. That is, when Mary told me...I have always loved the mill" Margaret's thoughts were jumbled and confused. She couldn't seem to pull apart the difference between what she was thinking and what she wanted to say.

"Always?" Thornton asked, puzzled not only by the meaning of such a comment, but also by the idea itself-that Margaret loved the mill.

Margaret was nervous. She attempted to explain. "Well, I mean, the mill...everything I miss about Milton revolves around this place. I have often thought about it...while I was in London."

"You have?" asked Thornton, growing more curious with her every word.

"Well yes. And when Mr. Bell told me that I was to marry one of the gentleman or leave the country...well as I said I knew you would not have me...and I was fully prepared to leave the country...but when Mary told me."

Mr. Thornton tried to control his curiosity but it was as if she was speaking in riddles for all the sense it made to him. One thing did stick out in his mind though and that was the thought of Margaret leaving.

"Why would you leave the country?" Mr. Thornton asked, interrupting her somewhat clouded train of thought.

"Please, Mr. Thornton. I have to get this right" she looked at him sternly to indicate that he needed to hold his questions and let her explain.

"I had rather hoped. Well, when Mr. Bell told me how much it would take to save the mill...please forgive me for talking of money...I just thought maybe you might accept me...as a friend...that perhaps we could be brought together...by this thing that we both love...even though we do not love each other...I just hoped that you might consider me...Forgive me it was a silly notion, but I have something else..."

"Why would you not marry one of the other gentlemen?" Thornton asked.

Another man might have rivaled in his good fortune. She had explained to Mr. Bell that _he_ would not accept _her_, not the other way around. What's more she was here now, having chosen him over that man at the station. But Thornton could not understand it.

Margaret blushed. "Well, that is just it. I mean, well Mr. Lennox...we _were_ friends but he was so cruel putting me in this situation...there was nothing between us. He was angry when I rejected his proposal and he...invented a scene. It was a horrible trick. And the other gentleman. Well...he was my brother Frederick."

"Your brother? I'm sure...Mr. Hale never mentioned..."

Here Margaret picked up speed. She began to stammer out the words more quickly than Mr. Thornton could take them in being so consumed with the gravity of the last truth. "We never speak of him. He got into some trouble with the navy. You have to believe me that it is a terrible misunderstanding...but he had to leave England none the less, or he would surely be executed after an unfair trial. That is why I had to lie to the police inspector, you see Fred was still in the country and I was terrified that he might be discovered. I know it must not excuse my behavior in your eyes but you must believe that I have not compromised my virtue as all of England seems to have suggested."

Mr. Thornton did not respond, he simply stared at her blankly. Margaret was about to lose all composure but she wanted to say something more. She hoped, despite everything that had passed between them she still continued to hope, that something could be salvaged between them.

"Mr. Thornton please do not take offense at what has passed between us. I came here today only to let you know that I was troubled by the loss of your good opinion and despite my previous lies I have nothing but the deepest trust and respect for you."

With that she scurried out the room, leaving him bewildered and uncertain. His mind seemed to sing out to him _It was her brother, the man was her brother_. As if that shocking revelation were not enough to compel a man towards some foolish repetition of a rejected proposal there was something else. There was something more in the way she had acted. Something about the mill, and something about a marriage. Only now did Mr. Thornton really hear the words.

_I just thought maybe you might accept me...as a friend...that perhaps we could be brought together...by this thing that we both love...even though we do not love each other._

Mr. Bell had suspected that only heartbreak awaited Margaret in that mill office and his worse fears were confirmed when he saw her rushing from the place. She nearly fell to her death in the haste with which she leapt down the stairs. As they walked away from the mill the girl who had walked in with her head high and her look of confidence was a mess. She had to steady herself on Mr. Bell as silent tears tumbled down her face.

Mr. Bell was completely flummoxed by Margaret's state of duress as they stumbled away from Marlborough Mills. His repeated attempts to comfort her with a symathetic touch of her shoulder, numerous offers to call for a carriage, and several attempts to return to the inn all had no effect. She only reiterated time and again her wish to visit her friends the Higgins'. Mr. Bell hardly believed her to be in a proper state of mind for a social call but he could not pretend to be astute about such things as the proper rules of behavior among Milton mill workers. He bowed to the only request that seemed to give her peace and followed her into the dirty Milton neighborhood.

When they arrived at the Higgins' residence Mr. Bell entereted it with the same charm and grace as if it were the finest estate in London. While the Higgins family weren't accustomed to such fine visitors, Mary did jump up from her seat to take Mr. Bell's hat and coat. She draped them delicately over a chair and smiled warmly as Margaret stumbled over her introctions.

Margaret sniffed loudly and wiped the tears from her eyes before beginning.

"Mr. Bell these are my dear friends Mary and Nicholas Higgins. The little ones are a new addition but no less loved."

Margaret went on to name each of the children as they beamed with pride expect for the eldest, Tom Boucher, who was quietly reading a book in the corner.

Margaret did not try to conceal the distress in her eyes among these, her friends in Milton. Mr. Bell was glad to see her among companions who could share in her emotions without the discomfort of her family at Harley Street. They did not speak of what ailed her but there was an invitation in their eyes, a sympathy that told him they cared for her and would be there for her the moment she needed them.

Mr. Bell wished to give her a moment with her friends to unburden herself. He took a seat near Tom Boucher and asked about his reading material. The attention awoke Tom from his private world and soon Mr. Bell was entertaining all of the Boucher children with stories of Oxford and South America. The scene brought a smile to Margaret's face, although it could not erase the redness of her tear-strained eyes. After a few wistful looks she turned her attention to the conversation at hand.

"So Nicholas, I take it your presence here means you are yet to find work?"

"Aye lass," Nicholas replied, "Not a master in town wants to hire a union rouser-exceptin' your Thornton o'course...I mean..." Nicholas fumbled, realizing his mistake immediately. If he were _her _Thornton she might look less distressed in the moment. Mary had rushed to the house hours ago and told her what she expected Miss Margaret was here for. They had both imagined their friend would visit with joyful news.

"Oh don't trouble yourself Nicholas. Mr. Thornton was a great friend to my father, but I can't pretend to have the same familiarity with him."

Margaret was not ready to share the details of what had passed in the mill with anyone. She decided to change the subject hastily.

"Well I know the mill has closed but I must be sure that you are not going hungry before I can leave this town with a clear conscious."

"We need no charity," said Nicholas defensively. In truth he could not reject her offer of help if only for the sake of the children.

At the talk of food Mary chimed into the conversation. "I'm quite capable of seeing to it that all of Thornton's workers are fed. I did just fine with it in the mill kitchen."

Mary was proud of her work as cook at Marlborough Mills. She received no shortage of praise for her stew, and had always found the position very satisfying. Her greatest regret when the mill closed was that she would return to idleness.

Nicholas was prepared for Margaret to protest their refusal of help but instead of glowering disapprovingly she looked at them with bewildered curiosity.

"What kitchen?" Margaret asked.

"Oh well the mill kitchen," Mary began, excited to describe the venture in which she had held such an important role. "Mr. Thornton opened a kitchen at the mill some time ago. He paid to have one of the old buildings converted to a dining hall. All the men chip in for the materials and I make a meal to serve many. The food is much better than what can be made to serve a few."

"A tasty meal it was" Nicholas added with a smile at his daughter.

Margaret felt a warmth rush over her at this touching story. Even when she saw Mr. Thornton at his worst he always seemed to surprise her with his softer qualities.

Mary smiled for a moment in the compliment from her father, but then lowered her head in disappointment. "It is closed now though. He lost the property with the mill."

"Well who do you think he lost it to?" Margaret asked, an idea forming in her head. "I'm sure Mr. Bell would lend it to us tomorrow. He has quite a weakness for good cooking and that stew sounds like a dream. If I forward you the money for the ingredients do you think we could serve all of the out of work men by noon tomorrow?" Margaret turned to Mary for a response.

"And their families." she replied proudly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch.5- Understanding**

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Hannah Thornton was extremely put-off by her sons incessant pacing that afternoon. She new Miss Hale had been to the mill. In fact, everyone in Milton knew it and the news was making it's way to London on the evening train. Mrs. Thornton thought several times of bringing it up but was afraid of what her son might say. Instead she tried a less direct tactic.

"John I hope you are not troubled by the closing of the mill. I'll have you know it is no matter to me whatsoever. I am quite happy to give up the house and go back to work in a small shop. The important thing is that we are together, and there is no one to stand in the way of that."

John sighed and walked over to her. It was no good to hide the truth from her when everyone in town could easily guess it.

"Mother you should know that even if there were someone else, we would still be together."

At this Mrs. Thornton threw her needlepoint onto the ground and walked over to the fire place. "You can't be serious John. So it's true then. You are considering marriage to that little strumpet just for the sake of business."

"Do not speak of her that way! Miss Hale is a respectable lady. Just because the dregs of society have fallen into false assumptions doesn't mean the lies are welcome in my house." He was fierce in his retort, confirming Hannah's suspicions that the addition of Miss Hale to their lives could only serve as a wedge between her and her beloved son.

John seethed for a while and continued his pacing around the room but eventually noticed that his mother had not returned from the fireplace. He sighed and walked closer to her once again. He did not know what he was considering, but he had to make her understand his position.

"Mother listen to me. It is true that Miss Hale came to speak to me today but she did not come to take advantage of my situation. She came asking me for help. Margaret is in a terrible situation. Few people believe in her virtue and her options in terms of restoring that reputation are limited. She came to _me _mother. She asked for _my help_. The fact that her fortune would restore the mill is inconsequential. So yes, I am considering marriage to Miss Hale but not for the sake of business. I am considering it because she needs me now, as I have always needed her."

Mrs. Thornton was not satisfied but she stopped the argument. The pair did not speak for the rest of the night and neither could be said to have a restful sleep.

Mr. Bell desperately wanted to discuss the matter of the mill office with Margaret but he could not find a break in her excited chatter about reopening the kitchen. He began to wonder if she was intentionally trying to bury the subject by keeping the conversation busy with other things. As they were walking to the kitchen to meet Mary he found his chance when she stopped talking for a moment as they passed near her old home in Crampton. He considered that it was probably cruel to interrupt the intentional moment of silence but he was quite desperate to engage her in the important matters at hand.

"Margaret my dear, you might consider that it is somewhat cruel to reopen this kitchen when we will only be detained in Milton for another fortnight...unless you have other arrangements in mind?"

Margaret swallowed. She knew the matter would be up for discussion but had hoped to avoid the topic at least until after the lunch. She knew that by "other arrangements" Mr. Bell was attempting to inquire after her own arrangements but Margaret pretended to misunderstand.

"Well I was hoping that we could work something out about that with Mary and Nicholas. Prehaps they could rent the kitchen from us...or we could make the continuing availability of it a condition of our new lease for Marlborough Mills."

"Margaret you know I meant..." Mr. Bell began, but he was too slow. She continued off into a discussion about the various ingredients to stew and Mary's peculiar way of chopping the potatoes and left no other opportunity for Mr. Bell to resurrect the previous conversation.

That day Mr. Thornton stepped outside for a walk to clear his head. It was not long before he found himself at the Crampton house. As he began to walk up the steps that had been hers he stopped short and laughed at himself. Margaret was not here. She was not here because he was a fool and if he persisted in it he would not be able to visit her in any portion of London.

Mr. Thornton thought about what he had said to her the day before and how it was probably hopeless, but he realized now that he had to try. With no idea what he would say he set off to speak to her. He tried to prepare a speech or an apology on the way there but nothing would come to his mind but her face.

On his way to the inn one of the men from the mill stopped him. "It's stew today Mr. Thornton, aren't ya comin'?"

"At the kitchen?" responded Thornton as his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Aye, Miss Hales come an' opened it right up," the worker replied as he rushed off towards the mill, nodding his farewell.

Thornton stood still for a few moments as a smile crept across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small yellow flower. It was old and dry, pressed between the pages of his pocketbook. As he held it in his hand he could feel Margaret's touch on his arm in the mill, around his neck at the riot. Thornton tucked the treasure back into his suit jacket and turned around, heading towards Marlborough Mills. As he walked the ideas finally came to him of what he could say to her.

As Margaret served stew to another hungry mill worker she looked around the dining hall for the hundredth time. The buzz about the kitchen was circulating throughout Milton and the Thornton's must have noticed the bustle so close to their home. She was so caught up in her search that she did not notice the object of it standing before her until he cleared his throat to gain her attention.

"Mr. Thornton," Margaret blushed as she said his name. She was startled by his sudden appearance. "What brings you here?" she stammered. She had been looking for him for an hour only to realize she had nothing to say.

"Well I heard a young lady was hosting a feast for all the out of work men of Marlborough Mills. I suppose I just came for a meal," he replied with a half smile. He could not help but notice her cheeks grow pink. Perhaps he had not missed his chance after all.

"It looks as if I'm the last in line Miss Hale. Is there any chance that you will join me?"

Margaret smiled and then lowered her head to hide the emotion. With a graceful sweeping motion she poured herself a bowl of stew and quietly followed him to the least populated corner of the dining hall. The boisterous sounds of the men and their families had grown to a dull roar as many turned their attention to the awkward pair.

Mr. Bell noticed her, walking with him to an uninhabited portion of the dining hall. He was about to interfere but Mary gave him a look that reminded him to allow his goddaughter this privacy.

"I am glad you came." Margaret began as they sat down. "I hope you do not take offense...I know this was your venture." She had planned the lunch hoping he would come, but now felt embarrassed at being caught in the midst of something that belonged to him.

He did not respond directly to her comment, but his next words erased any fear that she had offended him.

"It seems that the mill is not the only thing which we both love."

She looked up at him with wide curious eyes. No smile graced her lips but her silence seemed to invite him to say more.

"Miss Hale I did not come here for a bowl of stew," as he spoke he continued to search her face for any sign that the course of conversation was leading to that same unhappy place it had led him so many times before.

"Miss Hale I do not want you to go to South America, and I do not want you to go to your brother Frederick, wherever he is. I have been thinking that perhaps we could be brought together by the things that we both love."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flower. Despite being worn and pressed Margaret still recognized the distinctive shape of the petals. It was from Helstone. He held it out in the palm of his hand as an offering of to supplement the confession that was to follow.

."Even though you do not love me," he finished. John stared at her begging her in his mind to receive his late acceptance of her proposal. He could live with the loss of the mill, a sham marriage, an unrequited love. He could not live without her.

When she did not immediately respond Mr. Thornton's mind flooded with doubt. He wondered if confessing his feelings had been a mistake. Would she have accepted him if he had hidden his emotion as he did the day before?

When she finally spoke he was so absorbed in his own self doubts that he almost missed the words that would change his life forever "Mr. Thornton I...I thought it was _you_ who did not love _me_."

"Margaret" without regard for propriety he uttered her Christian name in the presence of every worker in his mill. "Margaret surely you know that I have always..." his throat hung before the last words, and he looked at her for permission to go on.

Margaret reached out and delicately rested her palm in his, touching the petals of his Helstone flower. They both smiled and looked at one another with complete understanding for the first time.

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A/N- So I had several other ideas for this story but the more I thought about it the more they seemed like a completely different fanfiction. It just seemed like they would both have to be incredibly dense not to work it out at this time, so this is the end. I hope you enjoyed it.


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